


As real as it gets

by MadamRed



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Eventual Romance, Human Katsuki Yuuri, Human Otabek Altin, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some tragic backstories, Vampire Victor Nikiforov, Vampire Yuri Plisetsky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRed/pseuds/MadamRed
Summary: Otabek has been living in his small little bubble of a world for eight long years when, one night, he wakes up sweating and feeling restless after a new, twisted version of a recurrent nightmare from his childhood comes back to haunt him. He thinks nothing of it as he walks to the only place where he can find some peace of mind: the rink.There, he finds something that shatters everything he thought was true about the world.





	As real as it gets

**Author's Note:**

> I should not be doing this but the chapter you're about to read has been sitting in my drafts for _weeks_ , so yeah. Hi, welcome to another WIP. I hope you enjoy your stay :D
> 
> [Tags don't want to collaborate, but there was an order to them... I'll fix them later.]

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Vampires are **_real._**

Or at least that’s what many folklore stories state as a well-known fact. This is a common feature shared by a multitude of communities, both old and young, conquered and independent, free or oppressed. _[Read more about folklore stories in our **general information page**.]_

Scientists, politicians, celebrities... Anyone who has access to a microphone and an audience speaks openly about the topic, mostly denying these beings’ existence and thus making believers the butt of simple-minded jokes which draw laughter out of those who think of us naïve.

But how many of us, common folk, have walked down an alley late at night, heart pounding and avoiding eye contact with the strangers that have braved the streets like us?

Think about it, how many times have you tried to convince yourself that the sudden gust of wind you felt caressing the back of your neck wasn’t actually a cold hand?

How many times have you tried to convince yourself that the shadow disappearing around the corner wasn’t actually the silhouette of one of these eternal creatures?

Whether you may choose to believe it or not, the children of the night are as real as you and I.

 

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* * *

Otabek sighed as he allowed his phone to drop on top of his chest. It was Saturday already, one in the morning to be precise, and he felt way too awake to continue lying in bed.

Without much thought, he threw the covers off his body and put on the clothes he had discarded before he collapsed on his bed earlier in the evening.

Work had been insane that day, as it usually was on the first Friday of every month when the orphans came to skate for free at the rink where he worked as an instructor. He smiled despite himself as he walked quietly through the hallways of his home.

Although, technically, it wasn’t _his_ home, of course. But he had been in the orphanage himself for such a long time – _eight years,_ his brain provided– that it had become his refuge.

So much so that he had become a volunteer in exchange of the room where he had been trying to sleep in just a few minutes ago. Since he had grown up there, the kids looked up at him as an older brother and the other volunteers knew how responsible he was and how much he truly cared about the place. It had even been his idea to take the kids skating once a month to his workplace. The owners of the rink, a couple in their early fifties, were nice people and had agreed immediately after seeing the little children gliding happily on the ice.

His mind, however, decided to forget the happy thoughts and started conjuring up images he had buried long ago as he walked around, the moonlight streaming through the windows and creating shadows before his eyes.

After the car accident which took his parents from him, leaving him as the sole survivor among the two parties involved, he had only ever lived here.

He had felt uprooted at first, having to move from their small house outside of town to this gigantic building with way too many kids for his liking. He had been 11 at that point, and his young mind had suffered from the shock of losing his only family for a very long time.

He sighed once more and shook his head. He felt restless tonight for some reason.

It happened to him sometimes. It was like his mind couldn’t just shut up and allow him to rest properly. It was a pain when he needed to get up at the crack of dawn and go to the rink a few blocks away to prepare for the day.

He didn’t need to worry about that tonight, though. Saturday was his free day at work so he could stay up and catch some sleep before his shift at the orphanage in the afternoon.

But walking around the place was somehow not enough.

It usually helped him clear his mind as he tidied up around the rooms but tonight, sitting on the floor in front of the shelves and organising the books scattered around the small library, he couldn’t stop thinking about the book he had been reading earlier. One the older kids asked him to read him a collection of short stories during his shift and kept asking him about the different monsters featured in the book: werewolves, witches and... vampires.

Which was not the _only_ reason why he had been reading about them before. He had woken up after being asleep for maybe about two hours because of a nightmare.

It had started out as it usually did: he was in the backseat of a car and two faceless figures, which he presumed were supposed to be his parents, sat at the front. It was raining in the dream, the clouds black all around them. But there were some things that were different about this particular situation.

One, there weren’t any other cars on the road. Two, the road itself was not lined with houses on both sides like the street back in his old neighbourhood that had been constantly featured in his dreams when he was younger. And, finally, three, the figures were not entirely faceless.

Instead of crashing and waking up like it always happened, the driver and passenger turned around, sneers and bloody fangs the only things on their, otherwise, blank faces.

He had woken up, clutching the sheets beneath his hands and covered in sweat. It had taken him quite a long while to get his heart to calm down and his breathing to go from laboured to normal again.

The vivid images came back and flooded his mind until he closed his eyes to try and get rid of the memories.

When he opened them again, he realised he had been holding the book in question a little too tightly. He put it in the shelf, finished tidying up quickly and exited the building through the staff only area at the back.

He typically avoided the back entrance since it led to an alley, but he couldn’t afford sneaking out the front and waking half the building up with the loud creaking sound of the heavy wooden doors, so he just breathed in deeply and started towards the avenue.

He walked aimlessly for a while until he spotted the ice rink. Even if his exhausted mind didn’t really know where he was going, his feet seemed to know that this was the only place where he could find solace in times of need, besides the orphanage.

While the building he had left behind a few minutes before had become his refuge, the rink was his sanctuary.

He went round the back and opened the staff only door with his key like he usually did in the mornings. Once inside, he took a deep breath and felt at ease for the first time since he had woken up from the nightmare.

_Yes._

This was exactly what he needed to relax: the ice and him, alone for a few hours.

Except he wasn’t alone. Quite a few pairs of skates were scattered across the floor and, now that he was focusing on it, he could hear the distinct sound of someone gliding on the ice.

Swallowing nervously, he grabbed a broom from one of the cleaning closets nearby and made his way towards the rink as quietly as possible. It was probably just a group of drunk teenagers that had somehow unlocked the back door and got in. Yeah, that _had_ to be it.

He froze as he peeked through the floor-to-ceiling glass panes which separated the skates’ renting area from the actual rink and gym space.

There, on the ice, was the most graceful man Otabek had seen in his entire life.

The mysterious figure moved, span and jumped with a precision which came only after countless hours of practice. He made it look effortless as he went from an energetic step sequence to a triple axel as if it were nothing, not even breaking a sweat from what Otabek could see of his raised arms as he jumped.

His long blond locks kept his features hidden from view, but the Kazakh couldn’t look away. Out of all the horror and cheap teenager movie scenarios that flashed through his mind since he first heard the man, this was probably at the very bottom of the list.

The dark silhouette came to a stop in the middle of the ice as he raised his leg, doing a camel spin followed quickly by the most beautiful haircutter and Biellman combination Otabek had had the privilege of witnessing.

The man finally stopped spinning and struck his final pose.

Even though he had had no music accompanying his movements, Otabek had felt it in each measured turn and raised hand during the chunk of the routine he had seen.

The blond approached the exit of the rink then, and Otabek noticed that he wasn’t even panting. How could he look so at ease after doing a choreography worthy of being performed in the biggest arenas around the world?

Before he could come up with a rational answer, however, the man’s face finally came into view as he locked eyes with Otabek.

Time seemed to stop until the Kazakh dropped the broom he had been holding, the sound echoing off the walls.

The man, coming out of his shock after being discovered, ran towards the stairs at the back which led to the few offices and little balcony area which overlooked the rink. Otabek chased after him, knowing the guy had literally nowhere to go and was more than surprised when he reached the top of the stairs and found the skates the intruder had borrowed lying on the ground.

Otabek walked around, trying to catch his breath and find the man in question, and soon realised there was no one there but him.

The only evidence of the break-in, as he later told the couple who owned the place about it –omitting the fact that he had been there late at night and saying he had forgotten Saturday was his day off and had come into work as usual– were the misplaced skates and an open window on the second floor in the small break area.

The owners decided not to call the police for the time being and to maybe get an alarm after so many years of refusing to get one.

Otabek agreed that it was a good plan and went back to the orphanage to sleep, but he found himself restless again as he tossed and turned on his small rickety bed.

The gracefulness with which the intruder had moved spoke of years of practice and perfecting, and yet his face had looked so young, ageless even in the dimly-lit rink.

When he eventually fell asleep, his dreams were filled of soft movements and delicate hands encompassing his own as he followed a tall blond around a frozen lake. He woke up, startled, when the man turned around and his green eyes locked with his brown ones.

The stranger’s eyes had held a certain ethereal quality to them combined with a harshness that made him shiver despite the sweat that covered his body.

He desperately wished to see those eyes in person again. **  
**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think! ^_^
> 
> Come yell at me about YoI/Otayuri over on tumblr: [madamredwrites](http://madamredwrites.tumblr.com/) ❤️️


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